Later, he may think to thank her for her phenomenal patience. Not that he's a paragon of it himself, just now. He frees a hand to try and help her with the other gauntlet, pulling it off and letting it clatter noisily to the floor with the other one. He pays them no mind. They'll survive. It means his fingertips are free to drag down her skin, to touch her- skin to skin.

"Festis bei umo canavarum," he corrects with a rumbling chuckle, mouthing at her neck. "Perhaps you meant that one?"